Of Concussions and Confessions
by aqaws321
Summary: Mac was attacked with a knife, beat up, and involved in an explosion. Here's the aftermath. Tag to and spoilers for 1x21 "Cigar Cutter."


**I LOVED THE SEASON FINALE BUT NOW WE HAVE TO WAIT MONTHS FOR SEASON TWO**

 **guess i'll fill the time by writing fanfic haha**

 **anyways keep your eye out for a (hopefully) coming soon fic that takes up where season one left off, and will be one of the few stories that i'm posting as a wip.**

 **huge thanks to Deliwiel and only-some-loser for their help with this fic! go check out their stories bc they're awesome!**

 **quick note: this is ever so slightly AU as i'm saying that Jack and Mac didn't go to get checked out by the medics right away.**

 **warnings: none other than a passing mention of someone vomiting, someone getting stitches, and a description of a stab wound, but the description is not very gruesome or descriptive, lol.**

* * *

Jack stared at the table that was sitting in the War Room, where the employees of the Phoenix Foundation were being debriefed. The table had some food on it, as well as an array of sports drinks and water bottles. Jack looked over his shoulder at his partner, who was slumped against the wall, his head tilted back and his eyes closed, face pale with exhaustion.

Jack had been sitting him earlier and knew that the kid was just as tired as he looked, and needed some serious rest. He also knew, though, that if his partner went to sleep without eating anything, he'd regret it in the morning. The kid had a tendency to ignore his body's needs if his mind was occupied, like it would be with this whole situation, and it was easy for him to forget to eat at the best of times- and this was definitely not the best of times.

Riley and Bozer had headed off to the hospital, and Bozer had been given stitches and a short surgery and deemed fine, miraculously- even though he had yet to wake up- so Jack didn't feel guilty about focusing all of his attention on Mac.

Making his decision, he grabbed a few granola bars off of the table, as well as two bottles of water. He quickly navigated the crowded room with the deft skill of someone that had been to too many parties that they didn't want to be at and were experienced at heading for the door without hitting anyone.

He squatted down by the blond, offering him a bottle of water. "You need to get some food and water in you, bud."

Mac's head rolled lazily to the side, his eyes drifting open. He stared up at Jack for a second, and then his gaze slowly moved to the outstretched bottle. After a moment, he mumbled, "Okay," but made no move to reach for the water.

Jack rolled his eyes, opening the water and shoving it into his friend's hand. "Here you go."

Mac finally brought the bottle of water up to his lips, and once he began drinking, he didn't stop until the bottle was half-empty. He looked more alert, and reached for the granola bars Jack held out to him. Tearing one open, he wolfed it down, obviously starving. Jack grinned as he watched his young friend demolish food- sometimes he forgot that Mac was still pretty young, and still had the appetite to go along with that.

Suddenly, Mac's face turned a sickly shade of green, and he shot to his feet and bolted to the nearest trashcan- which, through a stroke of luck, was only a few feet away. He proceeded to vomit up the food and water he had just eaten, the noise cutting through the chatter that filled the room and causing everyone to turn and stare at the blond.

Jack was already on his feet and by the younger man's side. As the blond bent over the trashcan, he noticed Mac's shirt sticking to his side and rapidly becoming soaked with blood. Jack cursed, turning to Matty, who was watching them with a worried expression. "He's bleeding, and I think he has a concussion. I'm gonna take him to the med bay."

Matty nodded. "Go."

Jack pulled Mac's arm over his shoulder, noting with relief that the young man had stopped retching, though he still looked pale, and his eyes were half-shut. A path cleared through the room quickly, the agents stepping aside to make way for their wounded comrade.

Jack took Mac to the elevator, impatiently pushing buttons and taking more of his friend's weight as the minutes passed. once they reached the correct floor, he hurried through the doors, almost carrying MacGyver at this point.

A young doctor that had been examining a case of first aid supplies looked up as Jack came through the doors, his face furrowing in worry as he took in the pair. Jack walked over to him. "My partner's almost passed out. I think he has a concussion and some kind of wound on his side. I haven't had time to look at how deep it is, but I know it needs attention."

The doctor nodded. "Bring him right over here."

He led the way to an unoccupied medical table,and Jack laid Mac on it gently. The younger man groaned with pain as his side was stretched, and his face remained the worrying shade of pale that that it had gained over the course of the trip to the med bay.

The doctor- Jack noticed that his name tag said Luke Sattler- quickly pulled on a pair of gloves and carefully pulled Mac's shirt away from his side. The blond's eyes slitted even further as he hissed in pain, and Jack found himself murmuring to the kid as the older man stared at the line of blood that was welling up quickly on Mac's side, leaving gruesome trails on pale skin as it ran down over his ribs- which were a gruesome mixture of blue, purple, and green- and pooled on the table.

Luke grabbed a pad of gauze from the med kit that he had brought with him and slowly wiped away the blood. He had to grab a new pad a few times, but after a minute or two he glanced up at Jack and said, "He was lucky. It's not deep, but it could've been. He's gonna need stitches as it is."

Jack grimaced, looking down at his partner. "How did you get stabbed, buddy?"

Mac surprised Jack when he opened his eyes and slurred out an answer. "F'ke Dr. Zito."

Jack's dislike of the man grew even more- something he hadn't thought was possible. "He had a knife? And he went after you with it?"

Mac nodded. Luke, looking apologetic, broke into the conversation, having apparently finished his examination of the wound. "I administered some anesthetic, but if we wait for it to take full effect, he's going to lose a good amount of blood, and I have no idea how much he already lost, so I don't want to wait that long. I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to start stitching up his side right now."

Jack's face grew grim. He had had to administer stitches to Mac enough times in the field- and had had them given to him- without anesthetic to know how much it was going to hurt. He nodded at Luke. "I'll hold him down."

Luke turned and grabbed his supplies from his medical kit. Jack looked down at Mac. "Sorry, bud."

Mac's eyes, which by now had slid all the way shut, cracked open to look at the older man. "Sorry for wh-"

His back arched in pain, his hands reflexively trying to come up and push away the source of the pain- Luke, who was administering the antiseptic. The man's lips were twisted in a grim expression, obviously upset at the pain he was causing his patient.

Jack grabbed Mac's hands gently but firmly, pushing them down onto the table. "Sorry, can't let you do that. Doc's just trying to help."

He knew Mac wasn't really listening, but he kept murmuring reassurances anyway. His heart clenched as Luke began the stitches and Mac let out a strangled cry, obviously in pain. The older man glanced over at the doctor. "Any way you can hurry that up?"

Luke shrugged one shoulder as he continued the stitches, a look of pure concentration etched on his face. "Not without botching it."

Jack let out a silent sigh. He knew the doctor was going as fast as he could, but that didn't make him feel much better when the kid was trying to pull away from the pain and Jack was the one holding him down and stopping him.

Jack tightened his jaw and continued his task.

Luke was on the fourth stitch when Mac- mercifully- passed out. He slumped, limp, on the metal table, and Jack couldn't help but breathe out a sigh of relief.

Without Mac fighting, Luke was able to finish the rest of the stitches relatively swiftly and then tape a pad of gauze over the stitches. Then he glanced up at Jack as he turned to discard his gloves in the biohazard bin that was sitting nearby. "Would you be able to stay with him for the next few days? I don't want to have to keep him here if I don't have to, but I can't send him home alone."

Jack nodded. "Won't be a problem."

Luke smiled, the expression speaking of tiredness and little good news that day. "Good. I'm going to check him for a concussion now, and then we'll see what the situation is."

Jack watched silently as the doctor opened each of Mac's eyelids and shone a light in them. "The pupils are the same size and react to light, and he wasn't showing any symptoms of a migraine or even just a severe headache when he came in, so I think he only has a mild concussion. He's good to go home and sleep, but if you notice him suddenly having trouble answering questions or is suddenly dizzy, bring him to a hospital ASAP. Oh, and don't give him any painkillers for the next-" he checked his watch- "Twelve hours. It'll suck, but they could do more damage than help. And he needs to come back in in three days to let me look at the stitches, so don't let him get them wet before then.

"I don't think he'll be up for much activity, but even if he thinks he is, don't let him. His ribs are bruised, and if he moves around too much over the next few days, he's going to cause himself a lot of unnecessary pain."

Jack digested the information, nodding silently, then turned to his partner when the blond let out a soft moan. "You awake there, buddy?"

Mac groaned again, then cracked his eyelids open. "Yeah."

Jack grinned. "Good news. The doc here said we can go home."

Mac gave a shaky thumbs up, but looked too exhausted to feel much other than pain.

Jack gave him a moment, then said, "You ready to head out?"

Mac swallowed, then said, "Yeah."

The older man helped him sit up slowly. Luke reappeared, surprising Jack, who hadn't even noticed that he had left. The man was pushing a wheelchair. "Here. You can use this to get him out to the car."

Mac looked about ready to protest, but Jack silenced him with a glare. He helped the younger man into the chair, then began to push. Luke followed them, both to help them get through the- frankly ridiculous, Jack's opinion- amount of doors in the building and to take the wheelchair back once Jack and Mac had reached Jack's car.

Jack spared a moment to mentally appreciate the fact that Mac had been treated by such a helpful doctor, then turned his attention to the task of transferring of Mac from the wheelchair to the passenger seat of the car without too much pain on the part of the blond.

* * *

The drive home was mostly silent, with Jack taking the less-traveled roads to avoid traffic and Mac dozing while leaning against the window.

When they reached Mac and Bozer's house, Jack slung Mac's arm around him- the arm of his non-injured side- and helped him inside. Once they were in the house, Jack set Mac down on the couch, helping him lie down and turning to grab a blanket, a large, deep blue, fleece thing.

Jack covered the kid with the blanket, making sure that he was comfortable when he heard the younger man's voice. "Jack."

Jack squatted down, resting on his heels. "Yeah?"

Mac stared over at him, eyes wide and slightly dazed. One hand poked out from beneath the blanket and clutched Jack's shirt sleeve, as if to ground himself. "Need to tell you something."

Jack settled into a sitting position so that he was level with the younger man's eyes, taking care as he did so not to dislodge the grip that the younger man had on him. "Yeah?"

Mac took a minute, then said, "The fake Dr. Zito talked to me."

He stopped again, and Jack gently prodded, "What'd he say?"

Mac's grip on Jack's sleeve tightened as he answered. "He said Murdoc told him what to say. He said- he asked how my dad was."

Jack felt his gut clench as Mac talked. He pushed the feeling down, though, as he listened to the younger man. Everything had a time, and right now was not the right time for anger. "He asked me how my dad was and- and the first thing I thought was, 'what happened to Jack?'"

Jack's eyes widened. He knew that the kid viewed him as an older-brother-figure, and a father-figure, to some extent, but he hadn't quite realized that the feelings went that deep. Mac kept talking, not noticing Jack's expression due to his concussion. "I was so worried about you, and then I heard that gunshot- and- and I thought- I thought you were gone, and that it wasn't _fair_ , because you were gonna stay, but my dad was alive and he _left_ -"

To Jack's surprise, tears had begun to well up in the blond's eyes. Jack talked quickly, knowing that the kid's emotions were skewed because of his concussion- which, most likely, was also the source of the blond's sudden confession. "Hey, hey, it's all good, I'm here, you're here, we're all safe."

Mac calmed at that, his eyes drooping against his will. He was losing the battle to keep them open, though, and Jack softly said, "You can go to sleep, buddy. I'll be here in the morning."

The blond looked very young as he said, "You're not gonna leave?"

Jack shook his head. "I'm not going to leave."

After a moment, the young man allowed his eyes to shutter close, reassured by Jack's words. The older man felt a sense of amazement at the amount of trust that Mac placed in him.

Jack sighed, looking at the blond, stretched out and asleep on the couch, hand still clutching Jack's shirt sleeve, as if to make sure that the older man would fulfill his promise and wouldn't leave him- unlike his father, who Jack still hadn't forgiven for that.

The kid probably wouldn't remember this in the morning, but Jack would.

And that was enough.


End file.
